encore Flubbed Salute

Despite his best intentions — and a lot of practice to perfect his salute — an Air Force offi cer has an embarrassing moment as a green second lieutenant.

I

I enlisted in the Air Force in 1966. After applying for a commission through the Airman Education and Commission- ing Program, I was accepted and went off to Lackland AFB, Texas, for a second round of basic training, this time as an officer trainee. During my time as an enlisted service-

member, and even during my initial basic training, I was taught to salute properly by making sure my fingertips followed my gig line up to my right eye- brow and holding it there until the of- ficer I was saluting returned my salute. I practiced that salute until I thought I had perfected it. Unfortunately, I recall all too vividly

many of my superior officers returning my salute in a most lackadaisical man- ner. When I was going through Officer Candidate School, I was determined to return salutes in a manner that would make both me and the Air Force proud. After graduating from Lackland, I

was sent to Keesler AFB, Miss., for Offi- cer Personnel School. I was assigned to an early class, from 0600 hours to 1200 hours. Because I resided off-base with my wife, I had to rise extra early to get to class on time. One early morning, after it had rained

most of the night, I was hurrying to class. A large troop of airmen were march- ing toward the building where I, too, was headed. With my book bag in my left hand, I hurried to get ahead of the

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troops, as I knew it was improper to break through their ranks. After getting ahead of them, and just before I entered the building, a master sergeant came out. Slowing down to a walk, I wanted to make a good impression with my salute. As per normal military courtesy, the

master sergeant salut- ed me first. In my best practiced manner, I brought my right hand up my gig line to my right eyebrow and snapped my hand down very crisply. Unfortunately, the tip of my fingers caught my eyeglasses, and I shot them right into the sergeant’s chest. As I was trying to catch my glasses and keep my balance on the rain-slicked path, I knocked my flight cap off as well. They both landed at the sergeant’s feet. Totally nonplussed, he bent over slow-

ly, retrieved my glasses and muddy hat, and handed them to me saying, “I believe these are yours, lieutenant.”

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— Laurence F. Messner is a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel. He lives in Hampton, N.H. For submission information, see page 6.

Tell Your Story Submit your humorous true stories (approximate- ly 450 words) of service- related experiences by email to encore@moaa .org or by mail to Encore Editor, 201 N. Washington St., Alexandria, VA 22314. All submissions will be considered for publication.

ILLUSTRATION: KOTRYNA ZUKAUSKAITE